


succumb

by thinkatory



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Complicated Relationships, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Fans for Equality and Justice's Equality Auction, Grief/Mourning, Humiliation, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Post-Break Up, Tony Stark Has Issues, anger issues, physical assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: Bucky Barnes arrives at the Avengers compound after Civil War to offer Tony pure payback at any cost.With Tony and Bucky having more combined issues than National Geographic, it's pretty messy.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	succumb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seinmit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/gifts).



> Sorry about the delay on this, but here it is!
> 
> I tried to make this as, well, canon-justifiable as I could despite the tropiness and give Tony some space to deal with the anger we saw peak at the end of CW. It gets to some dark places but I hope you're willing to follow me there. ♥

"No," Pepper says over the video call, her face purposely impassive in a way that reminds Tony too painfully of over a decade ago, tiptoeing around an interest that's now thoroughly faded because of what a mess he is.

"You still think I should've given them a pass." Tony already knows the answer, but there's always a chance it might stop her, make her think over the decision.

"Tony." Pepper shakes her head in a brief motion, giving nothing away besides the desire to give nothing away. "I have to go. I'll see you."

Of course. There's no getting around seeing her. He just won't _see_ her. Not in any way that matters in the long run. He says nothing, just looks down into his scotch, and she disconnects the call.

The Avengers are gone. It's just him and Rhodey and Friday, now, like he's taken so many steps backwards to a time when the suit was just fevered inspiration with no hope of practical use. The difference is that he's hurt so many people on the way, now, and it makes him wonder if it's worse to purposely make the decision to hurt the people you know in the guise of a friend or to do the same to people whose faces you'll never see in the guise of a salesman of death.

It's time to get drunk. Tony pulls himself out of his chair and goes to the living room to pour himself a few more fingers of scotch.

The compound is quiet. He's never wanted peace and quiet, but here it is: endless money and everything in the world to spend it on.

None of it means anything, now.

* * *

Rhodey starts staying at the compound without Tony ever asking for the company. It's fine. It's honestly good, not just because he's lonely as hell but because it's not as though he's ever really sat down and spent time with the guy like a relatively normal human. There's always been some bullshit in the way. Right now, at least in this moment, there isn't.

"So let me get this straight," Rhodey's saying as Tony swirls his drink. He jabs a finger at the TV. "You've never seen IT. Either of them."

"I'm not a horror guy." Tony looks at the TV, then a kid's arm gets ripped off onscreen and he grimaces. "Like that. What's the point of that?"

"It's supposed to get you nervous." Rhodey raises his eyebrows. "Really? No horror at all?"

"I didn't expect you to be a horror nerd," Tony returns.

Rhodey gestures with his drink. "I grabbed something new – Jesus, I'm not a _nerd_ , I just watch movies that don't have sex scenes in them."

Tony laughs at that; it feels good to laugh. "You want to turn on a Fifty Shades?"

Rhodey rolls his eyes. "Absolutely fucking not."

Tony doesn't have much time to laugh at that one before Friday speaks up over the intercom. "Sir, someone has entered the compound. I'm identifying them now."

Shit. Tony sits up. "You chill," he suggests to Rhodey. "I'll handle this."

"You want me to just sit here?" Rhodey shakes his head. "Nah, I'm in."

"All right, whatever, there's no time for this." Tony moves through the compound to the nearest console. "Friday, hit me with a visual."

Friday opens a screen for him, but has an answer before it focuses. "Subject identified, sir. It's Bucky Barnes."

Tony freezes to the spot, and wills himself to move to the door. Rhodey's behind him, now, and seems to be stuck staring at the video feed as well. "Shit," Tony says aloud. "Shit, fuck."

"Yeah, we gotta deal with this." Rhodey catches him by the arm and pulls him along. "I got your back, man."

Tony doesn't want this. He wants to sit in the compound, tweak suits, and only leave to arrange business shit with Pepper in conversations that make him want to die. It's gonna take everything in him to stare the murderer in the face, and he knows that.

He snaps his fingers. "Hey Friday, fire me Mark A28."

Within seconds, the gloves of the suit are fitting to his hands, and he hauls the door open with one glove aimed and ready at Barnes. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asks flatly.

Barnes looks at him with a zen sort of expression, and it makes Tony want to fire right at his face despite the fact that he's completely unarmed. _What right does Barnes have to be content?_ "I want to make a deal," he says. "Hear me out?"

"You're trespassing on private property." Tony's getting too angry too fast. "You purposely evaded my security measures. What made you think you could come here?"

Barnes takes that in, then says simply, "I want to turn myself over to you."

"What the hell?" Rhodey blurts out from behind Tony, but it's a good encapsulation of the deal right now, so Tony doesn't mind. "Man, if you want to turn yourself over to the authorities, there's better ways to do it than breaking into the Avengers compound."

They seem to be testing Barnes's patience, now, finally. It's a little bit of a relief to Tony, who doesn't like expressionless calm as a general rule. "Not to the authorities," Barnes says abruptly. "To you, Stark."

Tony feels vivid fury pouring through his veins like homegrown Extremis, and he jabs his thumb backwards. "All right, whatever, get inside. I'm tired of having my door open. Friday, how are your security protocols? Did he fuck them up?"

"All intact, sir," Friday says mildly. "Should we consider an upgrade tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'd hope so." Tony watches Barnes move inside the compound, and he realizes he's probably one push from vomiting onto the floor from pure adrenaline. It's an unfamiliar feeling despite all of the adrenaline rushes he's experienced in his life, and it's not like a scotch tasting with different notes. It's terrible.

He genuinely considers firing point-blank at Barnes, but he catches a look from Rhodey and stands away. "Anyway," he says flatly, "what's this actually about? You scoping out the place for the enemy?"

Barnes is definitely losing his patience. "It's exactly what I said. I'm turning myself over to you."

"Why?" Tony snaps. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I killed your parents, Stark." It's a slap to the face, whether or not Barnes meant it that way, and Tony's stung. Barnes is finally showing a bit of emotion, just in his eyes, an intense guilt that Tony can't deny. "So. For… however long. Whatever you want, or need, or whatever."

"Okay, but what does that mean?" Rhodey cuts in. "What are you expecting?"

"Payback," Barnes says directly, and meets Tony's gaze. He's clearly trying to stop the guilt from seeping into the rest of his expression, but it's not wholly working. "It's yours, Stark."

"Jesus," Tony swears. "Okay, fuck this. We're locking him up. He wants to be here, he can be here. Friday, up security measures on bunker room five to stage four." He seizes Barnes by the human arm and yanks him along. "You stay here," he tells Rhodey, as calmly as he can manage, and says nothing to Barnes as they go.

The bunker room is plain, meant as one of many panic rooms, but he's outfitted it to be a cell if it ever came to that. Finally, the opportunity to test it, Tony supposes. He gestures for Barnes to go inside, then stops before he closes the door to speak.

"What do you want from me?" 

It's as close to a genuine question as Tony is usually willing to ask someone who isn't Pepper or Rhodey, and Barnes seems to be relatively aware of its significance, because he takes a moment to answer.

"We both need closure. Don't you think?"

Tony grits his teeth, and he twists his head away so he doesn't have to see Barnes. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he says, half a warning. "There are rations. Don't eat too many. I assume you know how to handle rations."

"No kidding." Barnes is half-smiling, and that's enough for Tony to tense hard enough to ache and slam the door shut.

There's a long pause where Tony isn't sure he can breathe more than short, jerky gasps, then he pulls himself back up to standing to find Rhodey, who's still waiting by the main door. Tony looks at him, expressionless just like he hates, and turns to go to the liquor cabinet.

"Wait for me," Rhodey says, but the comment's joviality is muted. Rhodey knows. He's a good friend.

Tomorrow he can make sense of this. Tonight, he can drink himself senseless. It won't be the first time and it won't be the last.

* * *

Tony wakes up on the couch to find Rhodey asleep in the chair a few feet away. It's reassuring, in a way; they're just a couple of middle-aged assholes who got drunk last night and fell asleep in their street clothes. Normal shit. That's normal shit, right? Pathetic, but normal, at least.

He moves into the kitchen to start coffee, and within a few minutes Rhodey wanders in with a yawn and a "Hey."

"Hey," Tony echoes. "Bagel?"

"You're too New York," Rhodey complains. "You move upstate and you're still slinging bagels."

He raises his eyebrows. "They're good bagels."

"Yeah, okay." Rhodey takes a seat at the table. "You got a hangover?"

"Not really." Tony's never had the time for hangovers.

"You blasted through over half a bottle of scotch, man. I don't know how you do it."

Normal, veiled "you're kind of an alcoholic" conversation. Tony appreciates it. "Practice," he deadpans, and cuts the bagel with ease. "So, you heading out?"

"Nothing to do 'til Monday," Rhodey says.

"Convenient." Tony thinks he might be full of shit, but it isn't like Rhodey's left him alone due to army duties before. Tony's important to Rhodey, but Rhodey also takes his job incredibly seriously. "So. Cool."

Are they gonna have to talk about it now? There's only so long they can pretend it's just a goddamn sleepover.

Rhodey is sitting forward, his face in one of his hands, when Tony turns to face him. "We gotta have a plan," he says directly to Tony.

Tony tries to stay calm, reasonable, and stills where he stands to steady himself. "Yeah, I know," he says at long last.

Rhodey seems ready to coach him through this. "Are you gonna turn him in?"

"No." It doesn't feel right – and, honestly, if Cap finds out that Barnes is in the custody of whatever agency wants him most, he'll out himself and get his ass caught or in more trouble than he's in already. Even after destroying Steve's life it's hard not to have that tiniest bit of loyalty. "So, yeah, either I kick him out or I keep him."

"Okay," Rhodey says, utterly patient. "What happens if you kick him out?"

Tony turns as the bagel pops out of the toaster, and butters it like they're talking about the culture section of the newspaper. "I don't know where the hell former assassins go."

Rhodey is shaking his head when Tony delivers the bagel to him. "Do you think he's gonna kill again?" he asks outright.

It's a hell of a question. "I don't know. He seems to have some remorse right now."

"What if he's a bigger risk out there? What if people can still use him?"

"Jesus." Tony hates this conversation. "You want me to keep him, don't you?"

"I'm just talking this out, man," Rhodey says, and Tony catches an eyeroll from him before he turns around to make his own breakfast. "What happens if you keep him?"

It's time to be honest or whatever. "I don't know what he expects me to do. Thumbscrews or something? Car battery and electrodes to the nutsack?"

Rhodey makes a cringing sound, sucking air through his teeth. "You might have to talk to him about that."

Tony grunts as he crams an English muffin into the toaster. "Maybe I just let him rot in there until he dies."

Rhodey sighs. "Tony, he's a super soldier or something. He's probably gonna outlive both of us."

"I wasn't serious." Maybe. Tony leans heavily on the counter. "Rhodey. Shit." It's weighing on him, the big question. "Can I do this?"

As usual, Rhodey can mostly read his mind. "Don't kill him."

"I can't." It seems like the fastest thing to do, but Tony knows it won't bring any kind of resolution. He has no idea what will. "I can't do that to Cap. I can't do it either way."

"Do you want to contact Cap?"

Tony's shaking his head halfway through the sentence already. "No. Can't do that."

"Jesus, Tony, you're not giving yourself a lot of options right now," Rhodey says wearily.

"Fine. I'll let him go." Tony's nerves are too frayed for this. "Fuck him. He can live with his remorse and guilt and all that shit. Fuck him."

"Okay." Rhodey breathes out slowly, takes a bite of bagel, and goes on after swallowing. "I'll talk to him for you. Sound good?"

"Yeah." It's more than he ever would've expected out of Rhodey, but another part of him knows better; it's exactly what Rhodey would do for him. He's always underestimated his friends, one way or another. He can't quite look at Rhodey. "Thanks."

"No problem." Rhodey gestures with his bagel. "Just let me eat."

"Yeah," Tony says, and his voice sounds weird to him, muted, awkward, strained. "No problem."

Simple as that. Throw the asshole out. Be done with it. Know he'll stew in guilt for the rest of his maybe technically immortal life. Fuck him.

* * *

There's a camera in the panic room Barnes is staying in. There are cameras all over the place, because Tony was paranoid even before he built the suit. None in the bathrooms, though. He's not a sicko.

Rhodey opens the door with the code Tony gave him and slips inside. "Friday, give me audio," Tony says from his spot in the lab, and sits back heavily.

"Hey," Rhodey greets Barnes, who doesn't look remotely rattled where he's propped up against the wall on the bed. The door shuts behind Rhodey, who only looks probably ten percent worried, which is good. "We gotta talk."

"Where's Stark?" Barnes asks outright, not particularly bothered, at least.

"He sent me." Rhodey stands military straight. "He told me to let you know that if you go, now, he won't follow you. He'll let this go."

"No," Barnes says to Rhodey, simple as that.

"You think this is optional?" Rhodey's taking this seriously as any duty he's ever been given, and Tony has to appreciate that. "You gotta go. You don't get three squares and shelter here just because you murdered Tony's parents. What the hell."

Tony's mouth turns up in a faint smile at that, and doesn't fade when Barnes goes on. "This was never about shelter or food, Rhodes. He's gotta make a choice. A real one. No cop-outs."

Rhodey looks tensed. "What choice?"

Barnes hasn't moved an inch from his spot on the bed. "Can he live with me being out there, free?"

It startles Tony before he can stop himself, and he tenses, too, trying to push through the intense mix of feelings that try to press through him all at once. It's a good question. Can he live with that? Jesus Christ.

"Tony?" Rhodey looks at the camera. "What's up?"

Tony expands his screen, taps the audio on the earpiece Rhodey's wearing, and says, "Keep him. I'll figure something out."

Rhodey looks at Barnes. "Settle in," he advises. "Might be a while."

Barnes doesn't even shrug, doesn't give a single thing away. "No problem."

Tony hates him, in a horrible surge that makes him nauseous. "Get out of there," he says to Rhodey, snappish despite himself, and disconnects from the earpiece. He has no choice after his head swirls but to duck it between his legs and try to breathe.

He misses Pepper more than he could ever explain. This is what he's stuck with, now, a reminder of grief he's never wanted to face, of beating Cap's face in, of feeling to blame for a series of catastrophes under the auspices of being the great genius of Planet Earth.

Maybe he's destined for this, to descend to the point of torture and revenge. He's never been a good person, despite all of his efforts. Has he?

How can one person walking into his compound do this to him? Or, worse, is he doing it to himself?

He manages not to vomit, but it's a close thing.

* * *

Give or take thirty hours of holding him captive, Tony realizes he can't just pretend Barnes isn't in his bunker forever, and arms himself with the A28 before heading downstairs.

Barnes doesn't seem entirely surprised when the door opens, and finishes his bite of a granola bar to set it aside. "Hey," he says, muted but not unfriendly.

"Shut the fuck up." Tony's in no mood for mind games. "We gotta talk."

Barnes nods. "What do you need?" he asks.

Tony has to stop himself from doing something rash by tensing up completely, fingers tight in the gloves. "Stop that. I need you to tell me what your plans are, here."

Barnes looks him in the face, expression mild and unreadable. "I don't know how much clearer I can be." 

"Yeah, you can, though," Tony snipes. "You say you're turning yourself over to me, but I don't know what you're expecting me to do. You want torture? You want me to kill you? What the hell do you want?"

"It's not about what I want." Barnes exhales sharply, the first sign of emotion he's given away yet today. "Do you want to kill me?"

"No." Tony feels rage creeping up on him, but he knows that much; he could never pull the metaphorical trigger, and would never forgive himself if he did. "So, what's the alternative?"

Barnes glances away. "What do you want to do?" he asks outright. "When you look at me. What do you want to do?"

It's a terrible thing to have asked of him when he's in this mood, because he absolutely knows what he wants to do, but maybe he's still a good enough person that he can't allow himself to attack someone who's unarmed and totally willing to be murdered on the spot. It's a good sign, but it's also incredibly frustrating, and Tony huffs in frustration before he looks Barnes in the face again. "You have no way out," he says. "I want to make that completely clear to you."

Barnes doesn't hesitate on that. "Okay."

"Great." Tony moves to Barnes where he sits on the bed, hauls him to his feet, then punches him outright with one of the gloves into the wall. The blow barely knocks the wind out of Barnes, just breaking the skin, but he remains against the wall, gaze off, waiting. Nausea's rising in Tony's throat, but he pushes through it and seizes Barnes again to punch him so hard he hits the ground and remains still and stunned.

This is bad. This is a mistake, but Tony can't stop now. He climbs on top of Barnes and smashes him across the face once, again, and he's having trouble pulling in normal and steady breaths as Barnes just lies there and takes it. Finally he yanks Barnes's head up by the hair and slams the back of his head against the ground, still gripping his hair. "Is this what you want?" he demands. "You piece of shit, is this what you want from me?"

"Doesn't matter." Barnes's voice is soft, his lip broken from one of the punches.

"Fuck you," Tony says flatly, still crouched over Barnes. "Fuck you for using me for your penance or whatever. That's what this is, you're using me."

"No." Barnes clears his throat, already visibly recovering from the assault. "I'm not… I owe you this."

"What if I don't want it?" Tony snaps at him, gloved fingers still tight in Barnes's hair.

There's the briefest pause where Barnes's vision clears, and he looks Tony in the eyes. "I don't think that's true."

"Fuck you." Tony slams his fist into the floor next to his head, then shoves Barnes's head back against the floor and stands up. He feels like he could punch through the wall and feel absolutely nothing. He feels like a monster. "I don't appreciate being mindfucked," he tells Barnes, who remains prone on the floor. "You gotta get your head in order so I can get you the fuck out of here and never see you again."

Barnes pushes himself up to a sitting position before Tony turns around. "I don't want to go until you've found a way to hurt me," he says, and that awful guilt flashes in his face, that look that turns Tony's stomach for so many reasons. "If this doesn't do it – there's got to be a way."

"Maybe." Tony can't look at him anymore. He turns away, opens the door, and it locks behind him. He rushes down the hallway and sinks to the ground in front of the first trash can he finds to vomit, once, again, until it goes through the content of his stomach into just clear liquid. It's disgusting. He's disgusting.

He releases the A28s and drags himself to his feet to get some mouthwash.

Pepper's waiting for him in a meeting uptown. He dresses, checks his hair, and abandons Barnes to whatever pain he's experiencing to go experience even more of his own.

* * *

Barnes remains in his bunker for two more days and one more assault before Steve appears on the Avengers compound.

It's not technically a surprise, but it's early, and Tony considers leaving the place locked down so Steve has to punch his way through a wall or something. Eventually, as Cap is visibly contemplating the security measures, Tony just says, "Friday, let him in."

The door slides open, and Steve enters, looking tired, bearded, and ultimately not at all relieved to see Tony on the other side. "Hey," Tony says briskly.

"Hey." Steve settles his posture back into something more casual. "We have a lot to talk about."

"You shouldn't be here." Tony's practically required to say that much. "You're a fugitive."

"And you're not a cop." Steve tries to catch and hold Tony's gaze. "You know why I'm here."

Tony laughs shortly. "To get me into trouble, I'm guessing."

"You always find trouble anyway." Steve's obviously not interested in banter, though. "Where is he?"

Jesus, how does he know? Of course he knows. "You looking for Vision? He flew the coop a while ago with Wanda. I'm leaving well enough alone."

"You, leaving well enough alone?" Steve looks unhappy, though. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Tony."

Tony has another sudden surge of irritation, the first sign that his newly-found rage is going to flash, and he does his best to restrain it. He was so much more normal before the Barnes revelation. What the hell is he now? "Fine, what do you want me to do? Just hand him over?"

"Yeah, that would work," Steve says, unbothered. "What good is he to you here?"

"Cap, he wants to be here." He needs to hear that much. "He turned himself over, he chose to come here, he chooses to stay."

The look he gets from Steve is pure ice. "I don't believe that."

"Yeah, well, you wanna talk to him? And if you want to break him out, fucking go ahead. He's a nuisance." It's not entirely true, because the more Tony goes in there, the more horribly satisfying each bruise is, but maybe Tony can be a normal person once Barnes is out of his basement. "Come on. He's in the bunker."

"I know," Steve says, and of course he knows. Tony rolls his eyes and leads the way downstairs, an awful ache starting in his chest. Of course it has to be about Barnes. Of course Cap can't come back to him and do things right. It has to be all about Cap, all on Cap's terms, no sacrifices, no compromises.

Tony can't keep quiet the whole way. "You have a lot of gall coming here."

Steve makes an unimpressed sound. "You're holding someone as practically a prisoner of war, I wouldn't talk."

Tony groans. "Prisoner of – Steve, he surrendered himself, he made this choice, he's a big boy. What is he, eighty-something?"

"He's not thinking straight." Steve sounds so certain. "I'll get him ready to go."

"What if he doesn't want to see you?" It's half a taunt, and Tony doesn't regret it as much as he should. Steve fires a look at him, and Tony doesn't back down. "He's made a decision. Maybe you should respect it."

"I don't think you're thinking straight either," Steve says bluntly. "You wanna keep him here to do what? Leave him rot in a cell? Wait until you can get up the nerve to kill him?"

"Whatever," Tony dismisses, and stops in front of the bunker door to open it and reveal Barnes to Steve.

Steve stares at Barnes, and slowly moves into the room to go to him. Barnes pulls back, but Steve moves to him to touch the already healing bruises across his face. "What the hell," he voices, and looks back at Tony.

Tony refuses to be shamed, in this moment, at least. Shame is for him, in private, for the moments when the sick feeling tries to overtake him. "It's what he wants."

"Steve." Barnes speaks calmly, softly. "I'm good."

"Shut up." Steve sits on the bed with Barnes, despite Barnes shying away. "You need to come with me. Back to where you were. You'll be better off there for a while."

Barnes shakes his head. "You need to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"This isn't okay," Steve says, obviously meant more for Tony than Barnes. "This isn't what you need right now."

"You don't know what I need." A touch of acid comes into Barnes's tone, and Tony has to appreciate it as he looks on. It's good to see Barnes's calm break. "Let me be of some use to someone. Anyone. Let me make it up to someone for once."

"Bucky – "

"Fucking goats?" Barnes snaps, and there's a brief upset flashing in his face before he locks it down. "You want me to raise goats like I didn't do any of this?"

Steve's visibly overwhelmed, shoulders tense, tone shaky. "We can figure something out better for you. Just don't – I don't know what's gonna happen if you stay here."

"I'm not gonna kill him," Tony speaks up from where he leans on the doorway.

Steve turns to face him, and his expression is pale, drawn. "What _are_ you gonna do?"

Tony shrugs. "Whatever it takes to get his goddamn conscience in order and get him out of here."

"Figure something out," Steve challenges. "Something better than this."

"Sounds good to me." Tony looks at Barnes, and surrenders once and for all to this damn situation. "I'm gonna put you to some use."

"Like what?" Barnes asks, gaze tight on Tony.

"I have a few ideas." Tony stares at him, refusing to look away, ignoring Steve. "You're wasting space right now. Can I trust you not to kill me?"

Barnes looks unfazed. "Haven't I proven that?"

Steve tries to cut in. "Tony, what are you planning?"

"You think you can get in on my shit?" Tony can't look at Steve. "After everything you pulled?"

Steve looks stung when Tony half-looks his way. "You think you can just enslave my best friend and cut me out of what you're gonna do to him?"

"Call it indentured servitude," Barnes says, and Steve shoots him a look. Barnes's tone goes firm but vulnerable all at once. "I owe him, Steve. Please. You don't understand. You can't."

"Then explain it to me," Steve says tightly.

"I can't." Barnes swipes a hand over his face. "You're too good. You don't get it."

"You can live your whole life trying to make up for killing hundreds of people," Tony says flatly, "and it still won't be enough. I promise you that."

Barnes looks up at him, expression open, careful but wounded. "Doesn't mean it's not worth starting."

Tony can't turn away from that look in his eyes, until Barnes breaks their gaze and stares at the ground. "I got you," he says to Barnes, toneless. "Steve, unless you're gonna figure out your goddamn legal case, get out of here."

"You want Bucky but not me." Steve is on a horrible edge right now, but Tony has no regrets. "Look, I can get the others. We can figure it all out."

"World is what the world is." Tony shrugs at Steve. "Unless you want to face the music, what else can you do?"

"You're still stuck on all that," Steve says, astounded. "The Accords. Why can't you – "

"I don't want to have this argument for the thousandth time," Tony retorts. "What the hell do you want me to do?"

"To help us figure this out," Steve persists. "We can figure this out. We've figured everything else out."

"Give it up," Barnes says, expressionless again. "For now, at least. We'll see how this goes."

Steve's not ready to stop that easily. Of course not. "You still haven't said what you're planning to do with Bucky."

Fine. "He's better out in the field than sitting in my basement. I figure him out, I vouch for him, he makes up for his shit."

Barnes interjects before Steve can even open his mouth. "No. That's not – "

"Shut up," Tony says evenly. "That's what's happening. Live with it."

"What is wrong with you?" Steve demands. "This isn't you, Tony."

"He wants payback from me." Tony feels ice-cold in an abrupt moment. "He can pay it back to me by being a good person for once in this century."

Steve ignores Tony, and leans in to whisper with Barnes, who immediately starts shaking his head. "What good is being this stubborn?" Steve hisses.

Barnes looks helpless. "You gotta let me make my own choices eventually."

"Are we good?" Tony asks. "I'm tired of chaperoning this already."

Steve stands in a brisk motion. "I'll be back," he warns Tony. "I'll be watching."

"I don't care." Tony's anger jabs at him again with a pain in his stomach, and he gestures shortly with his head. "I'll walk you out. Barnes – leaving the door open. You try to kill me, I'll kill you first."

"Deal," Barnes says mildly.

"Buck," Steve tries, just barely turning back to him, but Barnes won't meet his gaze as they walk out of the door. Steve's mouth forms a tight line, but he follows Tony outside and walks away, past all the security measures he sabotaged.

"Friday," Tony says, toneless, "security assessment within the next ten. Okay?"

Friday speaks without hesitation. "Yes, sir."

He needs Rhodey. Rhodey is halfway across the world. Instead, he takes a bottle of scotch into his bedroom, drinks two glasses, and flops into his pillow to stare at his bedside table and desperately try to think of nothing.

It almost, kind of, works. It shouldn't hurt to feel nothing, but here he is.

* * *

"You can stop eating rations," Tony mentions, but Barnes shakes his head as he snaps a piece off of the granola bar and sits forward at the kitchen table. His sleeves are pushed up over his arms and his metal elbow makes the faintest scraping sound as he moves against the table. Tony takes the moment in, and finishes off his bagel with some schmear as he leans against the counter. "You ready to train?"

"You want to train with me," Barnes checks.

Tony is a little surprised he even has to ask. "The last thing I need is to vouch for you and for you to lose your goddamn mind out there."

Barnes contemplates that, expressionless, then looks Tony in the face. "They got the brainwashing out. I swear."

"Who did?"

"I'm not gonna say."

Tony has no idea if Barnes would be this infuriating if he hadn't done what he'd done to Tony's family, but he's on Tony's last nerve right now. "I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if I knew who you were talking about."

Barnes mildly chews his next bite of granola bar, then leaves it at, "I'm not comfortable sharing that."

Tony refuses to eat a bagel angrily, so he puts off eating it for a second. "You put your fate in my hands, but you're not gonna tell me something that important?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not putting other people at risk."

"That's new," Tony says, a little acidly, and concedes to taking an irritated bite of a bagel that doesn't really deserve the ire.

Barnes is watching him. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out on your own."

Another angry bite swallowed. "Yeah, well, I tried to stop thinking about you entirely."

Barnes considers that. "Did it work?"

"Not really." Tony is almost too keyed up to eat, but training requires energy and energy requires food. He has to force it down. "My week was going fine until you showed up, though."

"Sorry." He seems to mean it, which is completely absurd, and Tony laughs shortly. "What?" Barnes persists.

Tony swipes a hand over his mouth after finishing his next bite. "You could've just run off. Or stayed wherever you were. But you're ruining my shit just because of your conscience. You realize that, right?"

Barnes pauses, visibly measuring his words. "I'm trying to give us both some closure. If you really want me to go, and you're gonna mean it, just tell me."

Goddammit, this again. "I just want you to leave me alone for the rest of my life. If getting you out there to ease your conscience is the way to do it, it's worth it. Maybe the rest of the world will get something out of it, too."

"Yeah. I'd like that." Barnes sets the wrapper of the bar aside, apparently lost for what to do now that he's finished his food. "Been hard to do the right thing when everyone's been chasing me for the few crimes I haven't committed."

"Guess it would be." Tony looks at Barnes as he sits completely still, maybe a weird remnant of being a puppet soldier of modern Nazis, and shakes his head. "Plan is, I make sure you're good to go, I put you through your paces to see if you can fight without murdering me in particular, then we figure out if we can get you legally working against upcoming threats."

"If they'll allow me out in the world as opposed to putting me in a prison or executing me," Barnes deduces.

"Something like that." Tony contemplates the other half of his bagel, wishing his stomach would stop flipping long enough for him to easily finish. "I have some sway in all of this."

He hesitates. "No more Avengers. They need someone. Right?"

Tony's quiet for a moment, forces down a bite of bagel, then exhales. "Yeah. No more Avengers. I've got people who come in if I call, but there's no crew."

Barnes ducks his head in half a nod, and pulls in a breath. "You'll get them back."

"Bullshit," Tony says outright. "It's over. I don't care."

Barnes doesn't seem interested in coddling Tony. "You do."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Yeah, of course I do, but it doesn't matter if I care or not. Things are the way they are because of what happened."

"Because Steve chose me."

That's one way to put it. "He chose to save your life when you deserved to die. Even if you were set up and didn't do the bombing, it doesn't matter. He broke everything we planned, for your sake."

"What bothers you most about that?" Barnes asks, and Tony fights back the urge to get incredibly irritated. He's not finished with this psychoanalysis shit, though. "You think Steve turned on you, or you just wanted me dead and he was in the way?"

No point lying, Tony supposes. "Both."

Barnes falls quiet again, and the atmosphere in the kitchen is absolutely painful for maybe ten seconds before he speaks up again. "It shouldn't be on either of your shoulders. It should be on mine. That's… that's the best way to do this." He sighs, the first time Tony's heard any sign of obvious weariness from him. "I'll pay for what I did, maybe Steve sees it's time to come back and figure everything out, though I wouldn't count on that."

Tony rolls his eyes. "He'll hold out as long as he possibly can, yeah."

"You don't even know." There's a touch of irony to Barnes's comment, and Tony ignores the brush of sentimental affection for Cap there. He doesn't care. "He's stubborn. He's always been stubborn."

"People enable his stubbornness." Tony's come to terms with that in months since everything went down. "It helps them, so they tolerate it. But it's not good in the long run."

"We all have our useful flaws."

Tony considers him, gaze sharp. "What's yours?"

Barnes looks up at him. "I gotta prove myself," he answers. "Always. Before, and now."

It's a good answer. Tony frowns, and tosses what remains of the bagel into the trash; he's not in the mood to finish. "We should go. Come on."

Barnes follows him through the compound until they reach the spot Tony prepped for the day: a plain room, and a chair with restraints in the middle, like a set from a Quentin Tarantino movie. Barnes doesn't seem particularly rattled, and takes a seat. Tony has the briefest pang of pity that he immediately pushes aside to focus on locking him into the restraints. It's totally reasonable for him to do this. For anyone to do this.

Tony opens the next door to reveal a suit waiting, and it willingly accepts him as he steps into it. "You ready?" he checks with Barnes after, striding towards him.

Barnes doesn't seem that interested in protracted conversation about this. "Yeah."

"Great." Tony lifts his head slightly. "Friday, get me this guy's Russian vocab test."

It isn't like Tony's unfamiliar with speaking Russian – not by any stretch of the imagination, they'd always been good customers – but the words are so nonsensical that it's almost distracting him from keeping a close eye on Barnes. Once the sequence is over, Barnes is staring at him, and Tony prompts him with, "So?"

Barnes is breathing evenly, expression mild. "It's me."

"Huh." Tony otherwise silently undoes the restraints, and Barnes gets out of the chair once Tony is a few steps back. He steadies himself into a fighting stance, tilting his head at Barnes who remains impassive. "Time to go, man. You ready?"

"Sure." Barnes doesn't seem to need any sort of prep for this, so Tony sends a blast or two his way; Barnes only evades one of the two properly, moving away too hesitantly from the second, and it grazes his side by less than an inch. Tony grunts in irritation, but Barnes doesn't seem like he needs a break, so Tony goes at him, a fist into his gut, another to the side of his head – the ear's always been a good spot to fuck someone up and make them woozy – and Barnes _still isn't reacting_.

"What the fuck," Tony voices, and hauls off on Barnes one more time as hard as he can in hopes Barnes is gonna at least try to block him, but he takes the hit and falls back a few steps, blood dripping down the side of his face. "Okay, okay, I'm calling time." He flips the visor on the suit back and stares at Barnes. "What is your problem?"

Barnes wipes the blood from the side of his face and looks at it silently. It's not a good enough answer. "Barnes, what the fuck," Tony demands.

Barnes rubs the blood between his fingers. "I'm not gonna kill you."

Tony could throttle him. "You can hit me without killing me. I'm a big boy, I can take it."

That puts an edge on Barnes's tone in an instant. "You think I can take that risk?"

Tony pulls back the aggression by at least a fraction as that sinks in. "You're not gonna kill me," he says flatly. "Relax. You keep this up, I'm gonna kill _you_." Since when did he have to babysit and heal up his parents' assassin? Jesus. "Can you just take it down a notch?"

"Don't underestimate me." Barnes is deadly serious. "I know you have all the tech in the world, but don't underestimate me. If I let go, I don't know, Stark."

"I'm not scared of you," Tony makes clear, incredibly weary. "Just relax."

Barnes looks away from him, and the gash is very visible from that angle. "You should be."

Tony's not stupid, though. "This is a death wish. I'm not interested in a death wish. I want you to fight. So fight."

"Stark – "

"Fight or leave," he cuts Barnes off with, and puts the visor on. "Ready?"

Barnes is quiet and deadly still for a moment, then nods just barely enough for Tony to accept. "Cool, cool," he says to Barnes, his patience beyond tested, and swings at Barnes again.

* * *

Within a week, right about the time that Tony has an appointment to bring his current sponsorship of Barnes to the people who matter, Barnes has started to be a modern human.

It's hard not to observe Barnes out of paranoia alone, but it's getting to be a little fascinating, too. A lot of tech seems to be a little beyond Barnes, who takes a second to figure out what buttons to hit on a TV remote or how to operate small-scale technology like a phone. He does everything he can to avoid holding anything delicate in his metal hand with the same sort of care someone would have holding a flower in their palm. He's all right with computers, but Tony's screens are a bit much for him.

Tony can't fault him that. His setups would be a bit much for most people, even as regular tech advances for most people.

Tony's watching Barnes type on the computer in one of the common areas with mild interest. "Not with your left at all?" he asks.

"Old habit," Barnes says, "but for the best." He doesn't look back at Tony. "Aren't you gonna ask what I'm doing?"

"I know what you've been doing." There's no point pretending he hasn't been monitoring it. "Looking up your family."

Barnes doesn't respond immediately, still pecking away at the keyboard with his right hand. "Found some of them, anyway."

What a weird situation. "What's your plan? Knock on the door, say, 'hey, I'm your former Howling Commando and also ex-assassin great-granduncle, sorry I look great for my age'?"

A few more careful keystrokes, Barnes hits enter, and then sighs, less a heavy sound than a confused one. "I don't know. I just wanted to know."

Tony doesn't want to be invested in this. He just wants Barnes to figure out his shit and go away. "If you've got someone who'll take you on, you can go."

"I don't know," Barnes repeats, then looks back at him with a helpless expression for a split second before he glances away. "We've got a week or two before we can try this out, right? This plan of yours?"

God, Tony does _not_ want to be rattled by this guy's conscience. Fuck him. Fuck him for making Tony feel even worse than he already does. "Yeah."

"Whatever you want." Barnes is steadily ignoring everything, now, including the computer.

"Fuck's sake," Tony says, half-indignant at this continued line of bullshit. "You act like you'd let me use you as a footstool or something. Fucking former Hydra ottoman past my couch. Are you kidding me?"

"What do you want from me?" Barnes's facade is cracking, and his voice is strained. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"You want me to beat the shit out of you," Tony accuses him, to the point. "You want me to fuck you up. Don't you?" Barnes doesn't answer, and Tony paces. "This is sick. You're dragging me into some kind of – "

Barnes interrupts him abruptly. "Do you want to do it?"

Tony doesn't stop moving. "Of course I do, fuck you, but that doesn't mean I _should_ do it."

"I want you to." This is the first time Barnes has said it outright, and it makes Tony stop instantly. He turns to face Barnes, who is fiercely looking anywhere but at Tony as he goes on. "If you want to do it, and I want you to do it, what's the problem?"

Tony gestures sharply. "It's not helping either of us. It's just fucking you up and making me feel like shit about myself."

"Are you sure?" Barnes looks pale. "You can talk to me like I'm a normal person more and more. Are you sure it's making things worse?"

Tony cannot stand this guy sometimes. "Are you saying the more I beat the shit out of you, the more I forgive you?"

"Maybe a little," Barnes hazards. "It's worth trying."

"This is that death wish shit again," Tony says, comfortable being blunt. "You're being a masochist and dragging me into this hoping that I'll kill you."

"That's not – " Barnes shakes his head, and pushes his hair out of his face. "Masochist, maybe. But I'm not trying to make you kill me. I'm trying to… to purge this from our systems."

Tony stares at him. "And you really think it's working."

Barnes apparently can't meet his gaze at all. "This is the most civil conversation we've had in days, and you broke my nose yesterday."

Jesus. It's true. He's even gone without the gloves now and left it with the ends of a gauntlet along his wrists to block supersoldier metal arm hits and that's it. "I don't like it." Tony has to be to the point about this. "I want to get you out there. Get your issues out there. Stop dragging me into this."

Barnes considers that. "That's all you want from me?" he asks.

Tony crams his hands into his pockets, uncomfortable, vulnerable. "What do you mean?"

"I'm asking if there's anything you want from me."

It feels like he's asking a bigger question, though, and Tony isn't sure he wants to know what the layers to this question are. "I'm getting a drink. If you want to have a normal conversation, you can come with. Otherwise, sit here and, I don't know, genealogy some shit."

Barnes stands in a sharp motion, and Tony turns just as quickly, catching his gaze. He's got some question Tony doesn't want to deal with written all over his face, and Tony takes a step back. "What?" Tony asks abruptly.

"Never mind," Barnes says, muted and avoidant all at once, and Tony heaves a sigh before leaving the room.

* * *

"I just need you to sign off on this," Pepper says, and pushes the tablet forward.

Tony looks down at it, nausea roiling in his stomach and up his throat, his new normal he's had to accept in dealing with Pepper. He takes up the stylus and signs off on the contract, as usual uncharacteristically lost for words, and she stands briskly.

"Pepper," Tony starts, and she stops for an instant as she gathers the tablet. "You got time for a drink this weekend? On me."

The answer is terrible in how easily it comes to her. "No," Pepper says simply, with a slight, reflexive smile, and leaves the conference room. Tony presses his face into his hands and tries to breathe.

The good news is, when he goes home, Ross gives the go-ahead on Barnes on the condition that he submit to an official judgment by international powers within the next year. It's a simple conversation, simpler than it should be, and Tony wonders if destroying the Avengers gave him so much credibility that they'll generally accept what he suggests from now on. He solved their Captain America problem, their Wanda Maximoff problem, maybe, even with all the problems he'd previously caused. Now he's the good guy.

He doesn't particularly feel like a good guy. Whatever. The point is, there's a mission on tap and Barnes is a go. Now he just has to deliver the news.

"You're good," Tony says without much preface as he leans into the room where Barnes is pecking away at a laptop keyboard.

"What?" Barnes asks, less confused than questioning as he turns around.

Tony shrugs. "You're good to go. We're heading out to Maidan tomorrow. Get some sleep."

Barnes visibly has to take a moment to take that in, and closes the laptop delicately to set it aside. "They don't need anything from me?"

"They have my word." Tony restrains a sigh. "Don't make me regret it."

"What's the mission?"

Oh, that. "It's former Hydra apparently doing scientific experimentation. Their usual MO. We've got a location and security specs. I think we only need the two of us as of yet, but I have people prepped to come in if we really need them."

Barnes looks away, his expression blank, and Tony outright sighs now. "What?" It dawns on him. Oh, for fuck's sake. "Are you thinking some kind of vengeance shit right now?"

"I don't – " Barnes takes a moment to plan this next sentence, because even Tony has to admit it's important. "It doesn't matter what they did to me or had me do if they're hurting people right now. That's the important thing."

There's that flashpoint of anger, that absurd impulse he still hasn't gotten better at controlling when Barnes is just trying to look so _good_ and _normal_. "I don't believe you. I don't believe this perfect hero act you're trying to sell me."

Barnes rolls his eyes. "Tony, do you really think I think I'm a perfect hero?"

First names. "Don't look at me like that," Tony challenges. "You're trying too hard to be – to be fucking Cap right now, and that's not who you are. We both know that."

"I never said – "

Tony's not interested in Barnes equivocating. "You're trying to say all the right things, but I don't believe you mean them, not for a goddamn second." Not for the first time, the image of Barnes killing his mother flashes into the back of his mind. "You have more doubts than that. You think – "

Barnes cuts him off with a sharp gesture. "I think I'm a dangerous psychopath who's killed hundreds of people. Right?"

"That's why you're here," Tony says tightly. "Right?"

"I'm both," Barnes answers. "I killed those people, and I also want to do the right thing."

"Fuck you." Tony feels sick to his stomach.

Barnes's expression is unreadable. "What do you need from me before we go?"

No, not this again. "Fuck you," he repeats, and swipes a hand over his face. "We have a mission in the morning. Just – focus on the mission."

"Are you gonna trust me out there?"

It's an important question, and Tony makes himself think about it despite the way his head is still swirling with emotion. "I don't know yet."

Barnes accepts that. "What's it gonna take?"

"You want me to beat the shit out of you again," Tony accuses, and moves forward. "You act like I'm the one using you, but you're using me for this sick – "

"No," Barnes argues immediately, but Tony climbs on top of Barnes on the couch and presses his throat back against the edge of the couch. Barnes instinctively moves, but then his eyes lock onto Tony's; Tony grunts in irritation and adds his other hand to choke him out, pretty sure he's not going to be able to knock Barnes out, but it's really more the principle of the thing.

"This is the death wish I'm talking about," Tony hisses. "You need to get over this if I can trust you out there."

Barnes's breaths are shuddering under the pressure of Tony's hands, and he could easily send Tony flying across the room with a hit or break his rib with a hit to the side, but he's not doing anything. "They got the brainwashing out," Tony snaps, "but you're still a fucking mess. You need to figure this out." Barnes twitches under him, his breaths coming shorter now. "I'm tired of your shit."

He doesn't want to let go. He wants to see Barnes go under.

There's something awful starting to surge in him, and he realizes he's turned on before he can restrain himself from getting just a little hard against where Barnes's hips meet his. He shoves Barnes back and in a rush of horrible self-loathing grinds up against him. "You want to be any good to me?"

"What?" Barnes manages, as he's catching his breath.

Tony resists the urge to keep choking him out. "Suck me off. Bet you've had some practice."

Barnes looks him in the face, realizes Tony's completely serious, and Tony watches hesitant surrender cross his face. He climbs off of Barnes and undoes his pants, yanking them down; Barnes sinks in front of him and wastes no time slipping Tony's half-hard cock into his mouth.

It's the first sexual contact Tony's had in weeks beyond literally furious masturbation, and he releases something between a gasp and a grunt at the warmth of Barnes's mouth around his cock. He likes the idea that Barnes is still trying to catch his breath, that he'll suffer pulling in air through his nose because of his faintly bruised throat. It's just as satisfying as Barnes's frankly remarkable blowjob skills, and he groans, rocking his hips into Barnes's face and mouth.

Barnes makes a sound, and Tony doesn't care what it means; he slips his fingers into Barnes's hair harshly and shoves his mouth completely down onto his cock, fucking his mouth hard. "You feeling better yet?" he grinds out. "Your brain working yet, you piece of shit?"

He's going to come. His breaths are coming as shuddering as Barnes's were under his hands. He yanks Barnes's mouth off of his cock and shoves him back. "Over the couch," he snaps, and Barnes isn't stupid; he gets to his feet and starts to undo his own pants to yank them down. Tony seizes him by the back of the head with Barnes's hair tight in his fingers, wetting his cock with just spit as he spreads Barnes out and begins to shove himself into Barnes's ass.

Jesus, this is fucked up, but Barnes makes a sound that can't be anything but a groan of fought-back arousal, and it turns Tony on more than he can possibly imagine. He pushes deeper into Barnes, and he gasps. He shouldn't want this, but something buried deep inside of him doesn't just want this, it needs this, and he starts to fuck Barnes with his eyes tightly shut. He yanks Barnes back with his fingers fisted in his hair to arch his back, and Barnes groans again.

Barnes is tight but obviously ready, too ready, and Tony fights back the urge to wonder _how_ ready Barnes has been for this, for how long. He doesn't want to think about Barnes's wants. He wants to punish him for being a sick fuck, for turning Tony into a sick fuck, and he fucks Barnes as harshly and thoroughly as he can.

"You're sick," Tony breathes out, making absolutely sure Barnes can hear him. "You're putting me through hell because you can't think straight. You want this? You don't deserve this."

"I know," Barnes pants, and Tony sees Barnes's hand creep to his own hard cock. Tony releases Barnes's hair to slap his hand away before it can get there.

"You don't deserve that either."

"Shit." Barnes sounds like he's suffering now, at least, and Tony feels a surge of aroused power that he hates himself for. Barnes shudders under him, and pure arousal surges through him now like lightning; Barnes breaks into something that sounds like tears and comes, and Tony holds out just to make him hurt for even a minute or two longer before he yanks his cock out of Barnes's ass to jerk himself off on Barnes's skin.

It's one of the most intense orgasms he's ever had, almost enough to white out his vision, and he leans against the arm of the couch, exhausted.

Barnes is silent but for more shuddering gasps, and Tony forces himself not to ask, not to care. He yanks up his pants and does them back up. "Fuck you," he forces out, and turns away.

* * *

Barnes kills fourteen people on the mission, completely professional, without a moment's hesitation or thought of friendly fire. They free about a hundred people.

All in all, it's plausibly a good day, but Tony feels like complete shit.

He avoids Barnes for the next two days, and keeps busy with Stark Industries shit. He only vomits once from pure anxiety, which feels like a win. Rhodey's due to come over today, so he's got something to look forward to, and he arrives home with a slightly more easy feeling in his stomach.

"So it went okay," Rhodey is saying in the living room, and Tony stops dead before he walks in.

"Yeah, I think so," Barnes answers, and Tony instinctively does not want Rhodey to have this conversation, not knowing what Barnes is going to say or imply or try to do. Barnes isn't finished. "It doesn't feel right not to be fighting."

"I get that." Rhodey pauses. "Are you done with this whole self-loathing thing? I think you're driving Tony crazy."

Barnes audibly sighs. "I, uh, I had some time to think."

Rhodey doesn't necessarily sound ready to be impressed. "And?"

"Just because I remember it doesn't mean it was me."

It's a total shock to hear, considering everything, and Tony pulls in an uneasy breath as Rhodey answers. "You think Tony believes that?"

"I don't know what he believes. I just know once he's done with me I gotta move on from all this."

Tony can't breathe, now. He did what he did, he's done what he's done for all this time, and now, only _now_ Barnes has come to terms with his shit. What does that mean for Tony? What does that make him?

"I think he's been done with you for weeks, man," Rhodey says.

Barnes laughs briefly, unhappily. "I know. I've been a pain in the ass."

Rhodey lets out a sigh. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know." Barnes pauses. "I still have to make it up to him. Don't I?"

"Let me talk to him," Rhodey says. "He should be home soon."

Barnes laughs shortly again. "What are you gonna say?"

Rhodey sounds slightly amused. "That you're ready to be a human."

"Let's not go that far," Barnes says sarcastically, and Rhodey laughs then. "Thanks," Barnes adds, uncertainty in his tone.

Rhodey has a faint smile in his tone. "Sure."

All right, the conversation's over, so Tony moves into the foyer, prepared to run across Rhodey as though he's just arrived. Rhodey looks at him plainly, and Tony looks back at him. "Hey," Tony answers that expression. "You wanna get a drink?"

"It's eleven," Rhodey points out.

Tony shrugs. "Who cares?"

It's a standard conversation between them, at least, and they go to the kitchen for Tony to pour out a couple of fingers of scotch into some tumblers there. "We have to talk," Rhodey says.

"Business or pleasure?" Tony isn't sure he can pull off pretending like he hadn't heard the conversation, but he's going to do his best to try.

"Barnes." Rhodey watches Tony drink. "He's almost ready to go, if you want him to go."

"You sure about that?" Tony is too sober for this. "He's still a total mess."

"I'm not sure about that, man," Rhodey says, eyebrows raised. "The mission cleared his head, I think. He's thinking it through."

This is the worst possible thing to happen after you effectively forced yourself on someone. Jesus. "Well. Good. I guess. Whatever."

Rhodey isn't about to give this up. "Are you good?"

"Are you my therapist?" Tony fires back.

"I'm serious." He looks it, too. "Are _you_ ready to let it go?"

The truth is, he doesn't know, but that's not a good answer. "I don't want to deal with this shit anymore." That one's not a lie.

"So you're gonna let him go?" Rhodey prompts him.

Tony has to be at least a little stubborn about this. "He's never been a captive. He chose to stay here."

"Tony, come on." Rhodey drinks, still watching him pointedly.

"He wants to go, he can go." It feels like a good answer, even though it's not that simple. "He wants to stay, he can stay."

It surprises both of them, and Rhodey sits up. "So you're cool with him staying."

"If he's gonna be a normal fucking person and work with me," Tony supposes. "Then, yeah."

"And you'll be good?"

"I don't know." Fuck, there it is. "He still did it, Rhodey. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"You know he didn't do it, though." Rhodey's voice is lower. "He didn't choose to."

"It doesn't matter." But it does, doesn't it? Shit. "I'm supposed to just – "

"Maybe. I don't know, man, you have to… think it through." Rhodey drinks, not looking at him.

Tony bristles. "You think I'm not thinking it through."

"You're not," Rhodey says bluntly. "You're just letting your grief run you."

"Rhodey," Tony warns abruptly.

"That and Pepper."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Tony's losing his temper again, all at once. "Don't."

"Pepper, Cap, all of it." Rhodey exhales. "You're taking it all out on him."

"I'm giving him what he deserves." Tony doesn't even know why he's arguing this anymore. Does he really believe it? "What he wants."

"If he's stopped beating himself up," Rhodey says, "should _you_ be beating him up?"

Tony drinks, stewing in his own fucked up emotional state, and finally speaks. "You think I'm being unreasonable."

Rhodey's expression is dead serious. "Yeah, Tone, I really do."

"Shit." Tony forces the pain of guilt down his throat with a harsh swallow. "I – shit."

"Think about it, man." Rhodey sighs. "Just… don't fuck both of you up because your life is shitty right now. It could be good."

"How?" Tony snaps back. "How could it be good?"

Rhodey shrugs helplessly. "I don't know, but it can't always be this shitty, can it?"

Tony rolls his eyes, and downs more scotch. "Tell me something," he says flatly. "Why do you care about Barnes?"

Rhodey releases a weary sigh. "I care about you, you dumbass."

He can't resist a smile and wry laugh. "Fuck, that's sweet. Heartwarming."

"Shut up," Rhodey warns.

"Full House moment," Tony goes on.

"I changed my mind. You're a pain in the ass."

Tony laughs, and the brief moment is a relief. "No takebacks! You like me."

"You grew on me," Rhodey answers promptly. "Like a mold."

"I'll take it," Tony declares, and raises his glass to Rhodey, who touches his glass to Tony's.

* * *

There are bruises on Barnes's hips and thighs that haven't healed yet. Tony doesn't care.

Tony shoves Barnes face-first into the sheets of the bed, no pillow to cushion the blow, and Barnes twists his head to the side so he can manage to breathe. His fingers remain in a death grip in Barnes's hair as he spits into his free hand to give him as little prep as possible.

This is what he wants. If he didn't want it, he wouldn't be allowing it. He's got a metal arm and the fighting skills of a trained soldier, and could kill or maim Tony with very little effort. Tony knows that.

Plus the incredible sounds Barnes is making as Tony presses inside of him. Those are a dead giveaway.

"Hey Barnes," Tony gets out past the strain of intense arousal. "What do you want?"

"God," Barnes groans. "Tony – "

He's about halfway inside of Barnes now, and Barnes is desperately broken underneath him. It's everything he wants, now, every day he does it in a row is the only relief he's felt in weeks. "Fuck you," Tony breathes. "What do you want, Barnes?"

Barnes's voice is breathy as he manages it. "Say my name."

"Just did." He starts to fuck Barnes, hard snaps against his hips, his fingers tight and bruising into the bruises he's already made. "Try again."

Barnes releases another groan. "Tony."

"Say it." Tony shoves deeper into Barnes, all the way inside of him, now, and Barnes shudders beautifully under him.

"I want you," Barnes gasps out.

It's not what he wanted to hear, it's a shock, and it breaks guilt through him in spite of how incredible Barnes feels around his cock. "I think you're just a slut," Tony grinds out. "You just want to be fucked."

Barnes's fingers tighten in the sheets. "Tony – "

"Hey Bucky," Tony finds himself taunting, hating himself, but unable to help himself. "You like being full of my cock?"

Barnes moans and sinks into the bed, and Tony yanks him back up by the hair. "Yes," Barnes is moaning. "God."

"You just want me to fuck the guilt out of you." Day after day after day he's given into the rage-filled arousal because the adrenaline makes it all the more intense, makes him feel hot from head to toe, tingling sexually at every inch of skin contact. "You're lucky I bother."

Barnes is grinding his cock against the bed. "I know," he gasps. "Thank you."

Out of all the people he's fucked, he's never gotten a 'thank you,' he's never gotten anything like this, and it's something he can't believe he wants this badly. He shoves Barnes's face harshly into the bed and fucks him as hard as he can until Barnes breaks underneath him and comes without touching his cock at all.

Tony doesn't care. He's not done. He batters at Barnes, who shifts helplessly beneath him, and Tony can't help but get off on how this huge and powerful man is completely under his control and thrall and all of that shit. "We're done when we say I'm done," Tony forces out.

Barnes starts to move against him, and Tony fists his fingers in Barnes's hair. "What if I say you have to come again?" he snaps out softly. "What do you think?"

The sound Barnes makes is half a keen, and Tony could come on the spot if he didn't have self-control by now. "I'm going to fuck you until you come again." His voice is harsh, so unlike himself, he knows that, but it feels _right_. "You hear me?"

"Yes." Barnes sounds wild and desperate. "Please – "

Tony rams into him, single-minded, his fingers so tensed in Barnes's hair and hip that it hurts. He hears Barnes gasping under him, and he writhes up against Tony until Tony shoves him back down and halfway into his own come. Tony feels incredible, powerful, every inch of him aflame.

"You wanted this so long," Tony says, soft but harsh. "I saw it in your face. You wanted to be fucked into oblivion."

Barnes makes a half-sound of assent where his face is pressed into the bed, and Tony goes on. "You want to be used and thrown away."

"Yes," Barnes says, breathy, like he's falling apart as his ass tenses so tightly around Tony's cock. "Please, god."

"I'm not throwing you away," Tony says fiercely. "I'm gonna fuck you until I'm damn well done."

Barnes is clearly overstimulated under him, sweating and twitchy, and he groans into the sheets before he comes again with a sharp shudder. Tony can't take it for another second, and he pointedly flips Barnes over to move over him. "Bucky Barnes," he taunts as he jerks his cock hard. "All mine."

Barnes's gaze is open, just as wild as before, and it's imprinted in Tony's mind as he comes on Barnes's face and chest. Barnes is still pulling in sharp breaths in recovery as Tony comes back to his senses. Without any ceremony, he gets a towel and throws it at Barnes, walking away naked without a care to pour himself a drink.

Tony's too sensitive to everything, even the taste of the whiskey, after sessions like that. He can't seem to catch his breath properly, and he leans back against the couch, hoping to recover and be normal after all of that.

What the fuck is this? What the hell is going on? What is he doing?

It feels natural, when it isn't, it obviously isn't. Railing Barnes like that, being nasty, destroying him until he's a wreck, that's not something he's ever done. He's a 'laugh while you fuck' guy. This isn't him, is it? Has everything turned him into something else entirely?

He realizes Barnes is in the room quickly enough after his next gulp, and he's dressed just in boxers and an undershirt. "What do you want?" Tony asks, his tone noncommittal.

Barnes looks at him with this look that's too human for someone like him, and Tony bristles at seeing it. "We should talk," Barnes says.

"I don't want to talk." It's really as simple as that.

"Are you really going to send me away?"

Oh. Shit. "I wasn't planning on it."

Barnes seems to be searching his face for something, a clue to some mystery Tony can't imagine he's trying to solve. "So what now?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out." Tony gestures with his glass. "Missions. Compound. All of that."

"That's it?" Barnes asks, tone mild.

"What do you want to hear?" Tony asks, a little acid in his tone.

"I just wanna know what to expect."

It's fair enough, but Tony's still on edge, hating himself, guilty, hating Barnes for being more reasonable than he is, and hating Barnes for something he can't help. "Hasn't it been the same for a while now?"

There's a faint smile on Barnes's face now. "It works for you, huh?"

"I know it works for you." Is this flirting? Tony's not sure what to think of that, but he can't help himself.

Barnes examines him, then looks away. "You can call me Bucky," he says. "That's what I meant."

Tony measures his words. "Yeah. I know."

"Yeah, okay." Barnes is looking everywhere but Tony. "You don't like talking, do you? Not about anything important."

"What's important?" Tony asks bluntly.

"Nothing," Barnes decides, and turns away. "Enjoy your drink."

"Thanks," Tony calls after him, lifting his glass to Barnes's turned back, and drowns his confused sorrows into a few more drinks.

* * *

The next mission goes down in a bloody mess, they lose two civilians despite ultimately winning, and Barnes shuts down completely on the way home. Tony holes up in his bedroom after with a handful of bottles trying not to think about being censured by Ross. He gets two whole hours of peace before there's a knock on the door, and he tenses before finally saying, "Yeah, come in."

Barnes moves into the room silently, and shuts the door behind himself. "Sorry," he starts.

"This one's on me," Tony says shortly. "Don't try to take the credit for the fuckup."

"We're a team," Barnes says, and Tony's astounded to hear it, struck speechless as Barnes goes on. "I could've done better, too."

"You think – " Does Tony have a good argument that they _aren't_ a team? They've been working side by side for two missions now, planning assaults and ambushes together. "Fine. Whatever. I don't care. Take half the credit."

Barnes is still hovering. "What?" Tony snipes.

"I thought, I don't know." Barnes looks immensely awkward. "You might want to work out some frustrations or something."

"You want me to fuck you?" Tony rolls his eyes and downs more straight vodka. "Jesus Christ."

"I don't want – " Barnes backtracks on that. "It's not about what I want."

"Right, it's all about me," Tony says acidly. "I force myself on you and give you multiple orgasms. You hate every minute of it."

"Okay, okay, wait a second." Barnes gestures sharply. "I want to make something clear." Tony stares at him in answer, so he goes on. "I'm not the Winter Soldier."

It's hard not to get impatient. "I know that."

"I'm saying I didn't do it." It's the last thing Tony expected to hear. Barnes is doing his best to remain steady. "I did it, but I didn't. I was there when those people were killed, when your parents were killed, but I had to watch. Do you get that?"

"Must've sucked for you," Tony says sarcastically, before he can stop himself, then he swipes a hand over his face. "Goddammit."

"I'm here because I want to be." Tony can feel Barnes watching him as he talks. "Because I want to work with you, I want to get this right with Ross."

"You just want orders." Tony isn't sure he can look at Barnes. "Soldier to the end."

"Just not a Winter one, maybe." It's not really a joke, but Tony scoffs in a half-laugh. "Tony, I… I just want to know what's going on."

"Bucky." It's sarcastic, too, but Barnes looks at him with an open and questioning look on his face when Tony looks at him, and he realizes what he's done, somehow. "You know exactly what's going on."

Barnes takes a moment to compose his thoughts. "I want you to say it."

"You're mine," Tony says bluntly. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Maybe," Barnes says, tone softening. "That a problem for you?"

Tony doesn't want to answer that. It feels like a trap. "It is what it is."

"Sir, Colonel Rhodes has arrived with Pepper Potts," Friday says over the intercom.

"What the fuck," Tony voices, and sets aside his glass to move past Barnes. "Friday, how long have I got?"

Friday has a touch of amusement to her tone. "They're at the door, sir."

There's a knock at the door as Tony moves to the screen, and he sinks against the console. "Fuck," he snaps, mostly at the situation, and he goes to the door to pull it open. "I'm not interested," he tells the two of them.

"Come on," Rhodey starts without the slightest bit of hesitation. "I knew you were gonna lock yourself up in here, and, I thought – "

Pepper cuts him off, breaking through Tony's best efforts to ignore her. "Tony."

"I'm not interested," Tony repeats, and goes to shut the door.

Rhodey sticks his foot in the door. "Hear us out?" he tries.

Tony sets his jaw and pulls the door open again. He turns away and heads to the living room silently, beyond on edge, and seizes a bottle as he passes the liquor cabinet, foregoing the glass.

Pepper doesn't sit, even though Rhodey does. "Tony, it's not your fault."

"Spare me," Tony suggests as he opens the bottle. "I'm not interested in being patronized."

Pepper rolls her eyes. "I'm not patronizing you. I'm telling you the truth, like I always have."

"Yeah, you've been very clear with the truth recently, Pepper."

Rhodey sighs. "This isn't what we're here for."

"Are you matchmaking?" Tony snaps at Rhodey. "Take it up with her. She's the one who left."

"You pushed me away," Pepper cuts in, astounded. "You turned into – do you realize how hard it was to live with you?"

"Yeah, I'm awful, I know," Tony retorts, gesturing with the bottle widely. "Thanks for elucidating the goddamn point, Pepper. This is what I pay you for."

Pepper's shaking her head. "I thought I could do it, that's on me. You pushed me away, that's on you. We're both to blame."

Both to blame. That feels like a good encapsulation of his entire life for the past year. Maybe more. "You brought her here just to tell me what a piece of shit I am?" Tony checks with Rhodey. "Really good behavior. Very much a bro move."

"I brought her here so the two of you could figure this out," Rhodey insists. "And I think you can. Are you telling me you don't still love each other?"

"Irreconcilable differences, I think they call it," Tony goes on, on a tear now. "She's unhappy and I can't make her happy. So that's it. Pepper calls the shots."

"You can't be constantly in avoidant denial and be present in a relationship," Pepper says bluntly. "You tried to be open with me but when I needed you you were off in your own world."

"I'm not in denial," Tony protests. "I know exactly what my goddamn issues are."

Pepper hasn't moved an inch since she started talking, still as a statue. "Every time something goes wrong, you open a bottle. You're not an alcoholic, but you want to shut everything off instead of dealing with it. And maybe I want to try living with what's happening here and now."

"Yeah, I get it." Tony downs more vodka. "Can you both go now?"

"Pepper," Rhodey presses. "You know how much better he's gotten. He can figure it out."

Pepper sighs. "Does he look like he's figured anything out to you?"

"Why did you even come here?" Tony snaps at her. "Just to make me miserable? I don't need any help with that, but thanks."

"Because I thought we were going to talk about what happened in Madrid," Pepper says, and she looks so tired when he looks at her. It makes him ache to see. "I wanted to remind you that you can make mistakes without being the worst person imaginable. It's something you've always forgotten."

Of course, she knows him too well. "Great. Thanks. I get it."

"Put down the bottle," Rhodey suggests gently. "You need to talk to someone." He looks at Pepper. "You mind?"

Pepper looks far past weary. "I'll go. Thanks, Rhodey."

It's mostly sarcastic, but Rhodey just nods and looks at Tony as Pepper leaves. "Sorry," he says, and that's at least something, though Tony's not that ready to forgive. "I thought – I don't know. I thought it was worth a shot."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't," Tony says. "Thanks for nothing, though."

Rhodey sighs. "You need a stabilizing influence, and I can't be around all the time."

"I'm plenty stable." Tony sets the bottle aside in a gesture of some compromise. "I just want to be left alone for a while, what's so wrong with that?"

"You're doing good shit right now," Rhodey says, "but I don't want you self-destructing once you get back to base. Does that make sense to you?"

"I'm not self-destructing." This is ridiculous. "If you're just here to lecture me, you can leave."

It's written all over Rhodey's face that he knows the next sentence is very important to get right. "What are you doing with Barnes here now?"

"It's none of your business," Tony says, and immediately regrets it.

"Are you still – "

"No." It's true enough. He hasn't beat the shit out of Barnes properly in a while, maybe a slap across the face or two after a blowjob, but no straight-up punches. "He lives here. Who cares?"

Rhodey's looking at him pointedly, and Tony shrugs at him. Rhodey forces out a sigh. "I don't believe you," he says. "I can read you like a book."

"Yeah? Then read me." So Tony's being difficult. So what? "Tell me what I'm thinking."

"I think you're wrapped up in something that's gonna hurt you in the end."

Tony falls quiet, then Rhodey reaches for the bottle and opens it to drink freely. "If you're gonna drink," he says, "at least drink with me. Watch a movie. Like before."

It hurts to think of _before_ , when he was struggling but long before he had to face all of the darkness hovering behind the scenes waiting to seize him. "Yeah. Pick something out. I'll get glasses."

"Okay." Rhodey sounds relieved as Tony turns away to go to the liquor cabinet, and Tony tries not to think of how pathetic he must look to the outside world.

* * *

They aren't even home from the next mission when Tony gives in next. They're on the private plane, no one's there to see, and Tony's forced Bucky between his legs to blow him again. No one will hear, or if anyone hears, they'll know better than to care, so he groans and tightens his grip on Bucky's hair.

He's purposely memorized exactly what Tony wants out of a blowjob by now. It's a pretty good trait in a sexual partner, one that he hasn't seen a lot, and one that he's admittedly starting to like. "Fuck," he breathes out, and shoves his cock as far into Bucky's mouth as it'll go, happy to make him choke. "You like that? Try harder."

Bucky stays still, firm, breathing as best he can past the cock deep past his gag reflex. Tony is so turned on that he could say anything right now, but he knows what he wants to get out of Bucky right now. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?" He fucks his mouth with a few thrusts, then yanks his head away. "Smooth trip so far. Get on the floor."

Bucky knows to yank his pants down and climb onto his knees, and Tony wastes no time shoving himself inside of Bucky to fuck him right in the wide aisle. It's the most blatant time they've ever done this – it's usually hidden in the confines of Tony's room or the living room – and somehow that's even hotter. He buries his fingers deep into Bucky's scalp, pulling his hair as tightly as he can manage as he fucks Bucky into a total mess within minutes.

Tony laughs sharply at a moan from Bucky underneath him. "Everyone can hear you," he whispers. "You like that, you slut?"

Bucky shudders under him, a familiar sensation, one that Tony's growing to absolutely love – which is startling to realize mid-fuck. "What do you want from me?" Tony isn't sure where this is coming from, but he can't help himself. "What do you want?"

"I want you," Bucky manages past the carpeting. "God."

"You want me to fuck you?" Tony rides up against him, and Bucky moans into the plush carpeting. He's not finished in any sense. "You want me to save you? Turn you into a good guy?"

"I want you." Bucky sounds far past desperate. "Just you."

Tony feels something inside him break, and it's not anger, for once, some sort of intense sadness he can't explain. It's not grief, it's a terror he hasn't felt in years. "You want a boyfriend?" he taunts, despite himself, and fucks Bucky so hard he feels his knees start to ache. "Someone to love you?"

Bucky pants under him. "I do," he forces out.

No. No, no, that's not okay. He shoves Bucky's face into the carpeting pointedly and fucks him until he comes while half-suffocated. Tony jerks his cock to come on Bucky's face, staring him in the face as he goes, and he knows his terror and anger is very badly masked but he doesn't care. He comes in a horrible rush, and pulls up his pants hurriedly to go sit, too wrecked to think.

Bucky cleans himself up silently with a napkin, and takes a seat across from Tony. Tony doesn't want to look at anyone or anything, and presses his eyes shut, but the words are practically printed on the back of his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," Bucky says genuinely, softly, and falls silent.

"Fuck you," Tony says, and doesn't mean it at all.

* * *

It's like it didn't happen at all. Within two days the international judgment – they're not calling it a trial, Tony notes – is scheduled, and Ross has been pretty clear about what the likely conclusion will be: Bucky in Tony's care, no contact with Cap. It's not something Tony wants to talk to Bucky about, but to be fair he doesn't want to talk to Bucky about just about anything.

Does Tony want that? Wouldn't it be better to let him go, especially if he's somehow imprinted on Tony just because he's a good fuck? It's the only reason he can imagine someone would say something like that, with all he's done, with what he's become.

Bucky sits next to him in the living room, at first quietly relaxing with Tony as he flips through his tablet, then speaks up. "They're gonna stick you with me, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Tony says, noncommittal.

"You okay with that?"

It's a real question that deserves a real answer. "I think so."

Bucky hesitates. "Even after – "

Tony's throat is starting to ache already. "Yeah." Does he even know what a normal relationship looks like? It can't look like this, but what is this if it isn't _something_? "I don't care."

Bucky runs one of his regular fingers against one of his metal ones, a nervous gesture Tony's noticed over the past weeks. "You don't care."

"It makes sense." Tony clears his throat, hoping to clear out some of the pain in his throat, but it's not going away. "Somehow. I was an asshole to you, but I helped you or something. By being an asshole."

"It's not that," Bucky says, and Tony realizes intensely that he doesn't want to hear that. "It's… you gave me a chance, Tony. You let me figure it out."

"Are you fucking serious?" Tony asks, appalled. "You really think I've been helping you all this time?"

"I hated myself when I came here." Bucky tries to catch his gaze, and Tony finally consents to look him in the face to find a pointed look. "Now I know I can do the right thing. That my past isn't baked into everything I do from now on."

Tony scoffs, but can't look away from him. "That's no reason to love me." No point in not voicing it, if Bucky plans on being absurd about it.

"I don't know why," Bucky confesses. "I just know I do."

What does Tony feel? He doesn't know. He usually doesn't know. "I want you to stay," is what he answers instead, the first time he ever could have meant it, and the relief he sees in return is worth the admission.

Bucky's right hand grazes Tony's face, then he kisses him for the first time, and it all fits into place in a rush of a moment.

It's no Lucy and Ricky, but it's home.


End file.
